


Reflection

by All_Terrain_Nerd



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anxiety, Autistic Peter Parker, Don’t worry he gets it, Gay Peter Parker, Human Wade Wilson, It’s unsaid though, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Selectively non powered, Sleepy Cuddles, Superfamily (Marvel), Trans Peter Parker, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_Terrain_Nerd/pseuds/All_Terrain_Nerd
Summary: Peter goes to class, has some gender fueled anxiety times, and Wade helps out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been MIA since like January, but I just really got the incentive to write this. Anyways, I’ll definitely be able to get back to other things soon. Probably. I don’t actually know. Maybe. 
> 
> Story time! So I was in my human anatomy class when my teacher said this stuff verbatim. One of the other students said Flash’s line, but I added the malicious intent. Anyways, it hit me pretty hard so I kinda panicked. A lot of Peter’s thoughts in that scene were straight out of my head. I’m not sure if it’s considered to be alright in writing to 100% insert yourself as someone else, but I felt like it fit kinda well.

“... and the adrenal glands produce the other gender’s hormone—testosterone or estrogen, respectively—that the sex glands don’t. Some adrenal glands are more active than others, so that causes some women to be mannish and some men to be girly.”

 

Hormones. Well, the endocrine system. That’s always a nice, cut and dry topic for Mrs. Thurman. Why shouldn’t it be? Just another chapter in her human anatomy and physiology curriculum, just another fact. No need for Peter to draw attention to himself and correct her. Maybe he could send her an email after class. Or not. Confrontation sucked.

 

But then she kept going.

 

“I mean, wouldn’t it be weird if you were walking down the street and saw a woman that looked like a man?” And cue Flash’s mocking smirk. “Wouldn’t you wonder what was wrong?” _She’s old; she doesn’t know any better. She can be open to change_ , he thought to himself to try to argue with that nagging voice, just like Dr. Banner said would help. _Just keep breathing, Parker._

 

“Absolutely, Mrs. Thurman. But it sucks how we can’t even ask about it today,” Flash agreed with a very pointed look at Peter. Well, very pointed from Peter’s perspective. Mrs. Thurman has got to be a gazillion years old, though, so she definitely didn’t see anything.

 

So she continued. Peter had given up on listening, figuring he could easily catch up in an environment where he could focus and not mope. But he couldn’t ignore it completely, and certain words definitely hit him harder than others.

 

_C’mon, you can do this, Peter. She’s probably not even doing it on purpose._

 

“Wrong.”

 

_Stop overreacting. You can’t even get through a freaking class without being weird. Everyone_

 

“Normal.”

 

 _else is fine, normal. MJ would say something. Coward, can’t stand up for yourself and any other person who might be uncomfortable. You’re alone. Panicking alone. You’re_

 

“An anomaly.”

 

_an anomaly. Why does Wade put up with you? He could have anyone else and be happier. He shouldn’t have to deal with_

 

“Causes problems.”

 

_me. I’m a burden. Mr. Stark could have so many people who are smarter and better than me, who don’t cause problems. I’ve been too much_

 

“Unfixable.”

 

_trouble on Aunt May. She didn’t even want kids. Now she’s stuck with me. I’m_

 

“—pages 178 through 195 for Friday.”

 

 _a mess. Stop-stop-stop-stop-stop; just get through this period. It’s the last one. You can fall apart afterwards._ After a few minutes of lecturing, Mrs. Thurman’s timer went off.

 

“Ok, guys, go get out my hair. Have a good weekend!” Everyone started frantically putting things in their bags. Peter moved much more sluggishly, slowly lifting his head from his arms. Everything seemed to go slower when he started to check out. “Please don’t forget the questions at the end this time!” Mrs. Thurman called out as everyone filed out of the room.

 

Peter numbly walked down the hallway with his eyes down and shoulders hunched. That was a habit left over from when he used to bind his chest with a sports bra that was a size too small. It was nothing compared to the real binders that Mr. Stark insisted on getting him, but it served its purpose for a while (rest in peace). The binders were amazing, but he still hunched over whenever he felt self conscious/loathing.

 

He eventually made it to his locker and hung his bag up, not bothering to grab the muffin Wade must have put in his locker at some point. It was a nice gesture, but he wasn’t hungry. When he shut down, he didn’t really feel anything. It was better than that all-consuming fear and panic and he couldn’t breathe and—get to the bathroom. _You can do that, at least._

 

Fortunately, the bathroom in that hall wasn’t too far away from his locker. Unfortunately, Harry’s locker was in between his and his destination. _Screw the alphabetical locker system. Maybe he won’t be there._  So he walked with his eyes down and shoulders hunched.

 

Murphy’s law combined with the Parker luck sucked.

 

Peter saw Harry try to make his way over to him, but Peter just walked a little faster. That didn’t go as horribly as possible, but it wasn’t quite optimal.

 

Peter made his way over to what he mentally called his designated freak out stall. Third from the back wall, directly across from the hole in the wall where a urinal used to be and under the light that hadn’t worked in years, so most people didn’t go by it. Once he closed the door and had locked out all of the light, his breath started coming in shallow and fast.

 

_It was just a class. Just Mrs. Thurman being an idiot._

_But people agree with her. She’s right. Even if she was just an idiot, why’d you let it bother you?_

_Too sensitive._

_Not functioning._

_Broken._

_Bad._

 

“Breathe, baby boy.”

 

_No—_

 

“Petey, can you breathe for me?” A pause. He tried to take a deep breath, but it ended up coming out a wet sob. _When had he started crying?_   “There’s no one else in here. I locked the door. We’re alone. It’s okay, baby.” Peter sniffled and shuffled a little. Wade shouldn’t have to deal with this.

 

* * *

 

Wade had just tossed his bag into his locker, crushing about twenty sheets of assorted homework that definitely should have been anywhere else. He picked up the one that had fluttered to the floor. Huh. _That was due a week ago._ Wade shrugged. Nothing to do now.

 

He turned around and almost ran right into about five feet nine inches of entitled asshattery. “Why, Mr. Osborn, what brings you to the unsavory part of town?” he asked, finally bringing himself to look down into the eternally serious face of Harry.

 

Harry glared at him, which was really impressive considering he was basically always glaring. _Why does Peter talk to this tool?_  “Look, Wilson, I’m not here ‘cause I wanna be—”

 

“Aw, just when I thought we had something special, you gotta go and—”

 

“Shut _up_. Peter needs your dumb ass. Come on.” He turned on his heel leaving a blinking Wade dumbfounded for a moment. Wade quickly caught up, though, wordless and uncharacteristically serious as he followed Harry towards the bathroom across the hall from the room where Peter’s AP physics something mechanics class was. So smart.

 

Before he could march in there and do whatever he could to fix whatever he could, Harry stopped him. “Look, man, I don’t know what’s going on, but please text me afterwards. I need to know he’s okay.” Wade noted the sincerity and concern in his tone, all the resentment and hostility that he felt towards Wade was put aside.

 

“Yeah. Thanks.” Wade gave him a nod and headed in.

 

The bathroom was really gross. There was definitely a reason why no one used this one. Wade locked the door and headed towards the hyperventilating and sniffles. He spoke quietly as to not startle Peter too much. He was kinda jumpy.

 

“Peter, can you hear me?” He didn’t get much (i.e. anything) in way of a reaction, but kept on. “I need you to breathe. Petey, can you breathe for me?” He heard a slow but shaky intake of breath until it collapsed into a cry that tore Wade’s heart apart. “There’s no one else in here. I locked the door. We’re alone. It’s okay.” He got a tiny sniffle in response, which was kinda cute but very not the point at that particular moment.

 

After a beat of silence, Wade continued. “Can I come in? If you don’t want me to, I’ll stay out here, but I’m not going to leave you.” A muffled sob slipped through that was followed by a devastatingly small “okay”. A few seconds later, Wade heard the slightly rusted latch that didn’t quite fit be jostled back. He waited a few moments before opening the door to peer inside.

 

Peter was sitting on the toilet with his legs pulled up close to chest in a way that made him look even younger than his sixteen years. His forehead was resting on his knees, hiding his face in what was probably embarrassment knowing the kid. _Shit_.

 

Wade knelt down in front of him, which was probably a horrible idea. _Well, here’s to seeing if jeans can get teenager shithouse induced chlamydia_. He gently peeled Peter’s hands off of his shins to hold them in his own. They were shaking a little, adding to the sense of frailty of his tiny frame as a tear-stained face hesitantly looked up at him. “How can I help?” Wade whispered.

 

He didn’t immediately get a response other that a look that screamed insecurity and fear, and he wanted to do everything in his power to vanquish it. He rubbed his thumbs firmly on the backs of Peter’s hands. Eventually, Peter took in a deep breath.

 

“You don’t have to,” he said quietly with his eyes cast down. “I’m sorry.” His voice choked off then he put his head back to his knees to hide.

 

“No, no, baby, I want to.” God, seeing Peter beat himself up like this was the worst for Wade. This kid deserved the world, yet he couldn’t give himself any slack. _I just want to wrap him in a blanket and hold him_. “Can I hold you?” _Dammit, impulse control. Just pull it together for once_.

 

Peter took a second to process what had just been said, then nodded slightly. Wade stood up, pleasantly surprised, slowly pulling Peter up so he could take his place. He gently repositioned them so that Wade could sit on the toilet. He guided his younger, still slightly frazzled boyfriend to sit on his lap.

 

It was kind of awkward and not nearly touchy enough with Peter’s back to Wade’s chest, so Wade turned him ninety degrees. That made his knee bump into the empty toilet paper holder, but they fit pretty well after that. Even more so when Peter tucked his head under Wade’s chin and brought his hands up to toy with the sleeve of Wade’s shirt. Wade brought one hand up to play with Peter’s eternally fluffy hair and the wrapped his other arm around his waist to support his thigh, holding him close.

 

They sat like that for a while until Peter’s breathing became more steady with the little sniffles growing smaller and less frequent. Peter started wiggling until Wade got the memo to loosen up his hold a little. He turned so that he was facing the door again with his head leaned back on Wade’s shoulder. Wade adjusted so that his arms were wrapped around Peter’s middle.

 

Peter was doing that little wiggling and fidgeting thing he did whenever he wanted to say something but had to psych himself up first. It was pretty cute, though, at least the fidgeting with Wade’s fingers was. The squirming in Wade’s lap was starting to court discomfort. To arouse awkwardness. To fu— _stop it. We’re supposed to be comforting. Now, dead puppies-dead puppies-dead puppies...._

 

Finally, _finally_ , a little voice spoke up. “I’m sorry.” Well, shit. It would have been nice if Peter’s insecurity wouldn’t have popped up like little Wa— _stop_ —but that scans with how shittily this day has gone.

 

Wade pulled him in a little tighter and nuzzled against his face. “No,” he blew out, “don’t be sorry. I like taking care of you. Besides, there’s no way any of this is your fault.” He felt the little, fluffy head shake.

 

“Yeah, it is,” he whispered. “If I was normal, or just less messed up, o-or not as sensitive—“

 

“Baby boy, please stop. I,” Wade took a second to try to find the right words. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but you’re right; you’re not just like everyone else. You’re so amazing, and I love you so much—I hope you know that, no matter how much you might think you’re—that you think— _God_ , Petey, you’re perfect,” he sighed. “I know I’m supposed to validate your emotions and stuff, but...” he trailed off.

 

“‘Supposed to’?” Peter asked, beautiful eyes brightened by tears looking up into Wade’s. A small smile on his lips. _Finally_. “Did you Google how to comfort someone?”

 

“Well, I’m not exactly the nurturing type,” he joked sheepishly. “I wanted to make sure I was doing it right.” He laced his hands with Peter’s. “Y’know, it also said it was helpful to talk about it. If you want to. I don’t wanna push you or anything, just whatever you’re comfortable with.”

 

Peter huffed out a little laugh at his boyfriend’s rambling. “Okay.”

 

And he told him, with intermittent breaks to take a resetting deep breath or just to sink into Wade’s touch. Whenever Peter would go quiet for too long a time or seemed to go too deep into that brilliant mind of his, Wade would start humming or shift them a little bit.

 

Once Peter got through his tale and Wade’s anger was stoked, Peter spoke up again. “I’m sorry to dump this on you, but thank y—” _bzzt_. Peter sighed and checked his phone. “It’s my dad, sorry.” He put his phone so that Wade could hear. “Hi, I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Nah, it’s okay, kid. We were just worried. You know how Steve gets when you’re not right on time. We’ll see you soon though?_ ” Peter wasn’t quite at a hundred percent yet, so he pushed the phone away a little and turned towards Wade with a questioning-slash-pleading look that he hoped got through.

 

It did, if the soft smile he got in return was any indication. “We can go grab a churro or something, and then I’ll walk you back?” Wade whispered. “If you want?” Peter smiled and nodded, bringing the phone back between them.

 

“Would it actually be okay if I hung out with Wade for a little while?”

 

“ _Um, yeah, sure, just be back before six thirty? You can bring him with you if you want, I guess. Bruce’s making pho_.”

 

“Sounds good! I’ll ask. Love you, dad.”

 

“ _Love you, too, kiddo. Have fun_.” As soon as the line cut off, Peter looked towards Wade.

 

“Wanna head out?” he asked as he stood. He was a little sore and his legs were shaky, but overall it wasn’t too terrible.

 

“Sure thing, Petey.” Wade waited to get up until Peter had opened the door. Fitting two people in a stall that was barely meant for one did not leave much extra space.

 

When Wade emerged, he stretched his arms up over his head. Peter couldn’t help but admire the way his biceps and pecs and all the other glorious muscled Wade bits ( _hang on..._ ) stretched at the T-shirt he was wearing. Some obscure band from the seventies, probably.

 

A few moments passed before Peter made his way to Wade’s face, plastered with a shit-eating grin. “See something you like, baby boy?”

 

Peter ducked his head down, blushing furiously. Wade must have caught it because he chuckled and walked over. He threw one of those obnoxious arms over Peter’s shoulders as he guided him out. “I was thinking we could go to Rosa’s? Hey, did I ever tell you about why I can’t go to that empanada place over by Bryant Park?” Peter smiled and shook his head. “Well, the story begins with our brave hero—that’s me, by the way—walking down the cat food aisle at Whole Foods....”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, do you guys remember when I said I'd update this within like two weeks of posting the first chapter? Well, you know what they say; good things come to those who wait. And I'm sure you all will find something good somewhere soon. 
> 
> In the meantime, have chapter two.

"You know, I think yours would be way better."

 

"Damn straight. That man was just afraid of flavor. And cats with disproportionately long tails," Wade replied with a mouthful of chocolate churro. They'd stopped by the stand about halfway between the Tower and thirty-third. "Hey, you wanna go pick up some stuff and make 'em tonight?"

 

"How about we do that tomorrow since we've already got dinner plans?" Peter said with a fond smile. Wade let out a quite "oh" with raised eyebrows as he was reminded. As much as he adored Wade, scheduling would never be one of his strong suits. "You can probably stay the night, if you want?"

 

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll text Logan." After a few seconds of smirking softly and typing at his phone, he looks up. "All set. I'm, like, almost certain he'll be okay with it." They continued walking and talking for a couple of minutes until they get to the back entrance of the Tower. Logan replied with a _k_ that had about the most emotion a person can get out of one of his texts.

 

" _Welcome home, Peter. Welcome back, Wade_ ," F.R.I.D.A.Y. greeted. Wade furled his brow and looked up at the ceiling as if to look at the A.I..

 

Under his breath, he murmured something about _Stark_. His boyfriend says enough weird stuff that Peter knows to pick his battles. And questions. Specifically requests. For explanations. Because Wade says weird stuff. 

 

Anyways, they walked into the elevator and and F.R.I.D.A.Y. took them to the communal floor. When the doors slid open, they walked to where the T.V. and game systems were set up in front of a couch with an obscene amount of pillows on it. Call Peter weird (you wouldn't be the first), but this part of the social interaction was definitely up there in terms of "hardest to know if you do it right." So he remains standing while Wade flings himself on the couch. After a few awkward moments of Peter not sitting like, you know, a person, and not making eye contact, also like a person, he spoke up. "I, uh, I'll be right back." He made a vague motion to his chest, hoping to get the whole _my ribs hate me and are, like, three minutes from mutiny_  message across.

 

Wade squinted a little in confusion but then nodded emphatically when he got it. "Sure thing! I've got a hoodie in my bag, if you want it?" Peter looked up with a grin and nodded. There will never be a day when he turns down a Wade hoodie. Sure, he's already got a couple in his closet and was sort of already planning on which stolen item he'd wear, but more is always nice. Wade pulled it out quickly then tossed it to Peter before he turned to go to his room.

 

* * *

 

Wade smiled as he watched his boyfriend go off. When he and that perky ass were out of view, he leaned back into the couch and exhaled. He loved his boyfriend more than anything and was pretty damn confident it was returned, but sometimes he couldn't help but think that Peter wasn't entirely relaxed around him. Wade knew rationally that Peter just expressed himself differently and wasn't comfortable with taking initiative in a lot of social situations, but his _pathos_ kicks in and yells that no, he just can't trust you. With a sigh, he grabs the remote and puts it on the next season of the _Great British Bake Off_. It's a fantastic show for post anxiety attack cuddles and crippling self-doubt. Dream team.

 

Peter returned in the enormous hoodie with his hair slightly disheveled. Wade gave him a grin before laying on his side with plenty of space for a small, sleepy boyfriend in front of him. He patted the couch and pulled the boy closer when he settled down.

 

In his best (or worst; they're the same) posh English accent, he said, "It's cake week, love." F.R.I.D.A.Y. took the cue and started the show while Peter huffed out a laugh.

 

They watch and riff as contestants goodheartedly competed. Around mid-technical, Wade felt Peter get a little heavier and talk a little less. He brought his free hand to trail against Peter's side, starting at his ribs then down to the curve of his abdomen that was accentuated by the position and across the dual juts of his hips. Peter hummed his contentment softly, inviting Wade to repeat the action until his breaths evened out.

 

"Hey, F.R.I.?" he whispered. "Can you turn it down a little?" The A.I., ever so intuitive, did not verbally respond but turned the volume down low. Not long after, Wade let his own eyes close, soothed by the gentle voices and Peter's steady breaths.

 

* * *

 

Steve and Bucky'd been helping Tony out in the lab when an alert sounded over the speakers. It wasn't an emergency, thank God, but it did startle them. Tony's eyes lit up as soon as he identified it. "Pull it up."

 

A live feed from the common room is projected onto a large screen. Even Bucky, with his overprotective streak, had to admit that it was pretty damn cute. Their lax faces, their entangled arms, the occasional twitch of Peter's nose, the way Wade would gently sigh every now and again, all of it.

 

"Put it in the 'Embarrassing Wedding PowerPoint' folder."

 

" _Of course, Boss_."

 

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance before turning to look at the feed again. They'd be looking through that file later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very happy with the ending at the moment, so revision ideas are very welcome :)
> 
> Thanks for stopping by, folks!


End file.
